


Redemption

by KarasuNei



Series: The Road goes ever on and on [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dumb Dads, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jack's turn to be angsty, Light Smut, M/M, Reaper76 - Freeform, Slight Hanzo/McCree if you squint, Sorry-not-sorry I'm a sucker for fluff, Team as Family, blind!jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7398190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuNei/pseuds/KarasuNei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's flickering thoughts after a long day.</p><p>(Can be read separately from the first part)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> *nervous laughing* Guys, guys...I posted the "Salvation" fic just yesterday, and I can't lgjkkhgnkzjhhnbzkbgnjghijg believe how many kudos and views you guys' been giving me! You make my poor lil' fangirl heart die in joy, and I can't express enough gratitude for the support I got! So yeah, uhm, here's another contribution from me to this Reaper75 hell we all suffer together, and I hope you guys enjoy it just as much as the first one!
> 
> Thank you all so much!!!
> 
> Psst, leave a comment? It'll make my day :3 <3
> 
> Also shameless LotR references because I can't stop myself...

* * *

 

                “You’re late.” There is a muffled, sleepy grunt that came somewhere from the various layers of blankets.

 

                Jack rolls his eyes, casually kicking off his boots as he makes his way towards the _futon_. Gabriel can be such a pain in the ass sometimes, especially now that he is constantly doped on whatever Angela has been giving him for the treatment. A hand shoots out from underneath all the fluffiness and tucks at the leg of Jack’s pants insistently. Said soldier bites back an exasperated sigh, if not a bit fond, as he discards his clothes, groaning a little after the long recon mission.

 

                “You’re fuckin’ clingy, Gabe.” Jack grumbles, but doesn’t move away when a cool arm slides across his abs and pulls him closer. Gabriel’s retort is lost between something in Spanish and Jack’s shoulder, spraying flat against the soldier’s bare skin to leech off his warmth. Jack’s sweeping hand against Gabriel’s back is like a second nature now, checking on the other man’s temperature.

 

                Ever since Gabriel’s return, everything hasn’t been the same. It is astounding how this one man always manages to change Jack Morrison’s entire world. Jack thought he was rid of all these feelings, buried them away along with the explosion at Zurich and his empty coffin. That there is only pain and anger and sorrow from that point onwards, directed at a supposedly dead man, the one that Jack loved. The one that betrayed him.

 

                When Reaper showed up in Gibraltar, arrogant but far too calm for some allegedly homicidal maniac, Jack had thought he would empty a whole clip into the mercenary’s masked face. Especially _after_ he learned who this asshole really is. But Jack didn’t, sitting rigidly on the industrial stainless steel chair just behind the quiet Shimada brothers, listening to Reaper’s side of the story. How he has made it his own personal duty to hunt down every corrupted Overwatch agent, how he dug up the files and evidences painstakingly over the years, how deeply Talon’s connections reach.

 

                “How do we know if you are not trying to cover your actions with lies?” Winston had been distrustful, pinning Reaper with a hard glare behind his glasses, “You have personally come for me and attacked the Overwatch agents’ database.”  
  
 

                “Last time I checked, you are still alive, _mi’ijo_ , and so are the people sitting here.” Reaper’s drawl is humourless, “I wouldn’t have targeted you if I knew you couldn’t take it.”

 

                Despite Winston’s bristling, the words rang true. If Reaper truly was aiming to take out the fragments of old Overwatch for good, he wouldn’t have targeted nameless agents. God forbid, he would have gone for the roots, the founding members, whom, when Jack thinks about it, weren’t very discreet in their hidings at all. Reinhardt’s location has never been a secret, because that man tends to make an entrance everywhere he goes. Lena is a bit flickering, but she tends to have the habit of returning home to England every now and then. Torbjörn and Angela meet up far too often, and Angela has a knack for sending out postcards to everyone she might have a clue of whereabouts during the holidays. The lines are secured, but even Jack who simply just wanted to keep track of them while he was under radar could easily trace them all down. The only one whose current location is impossible to find is Ana, but her daughter, Fareeha is rapidly making a name for herself.

 

                Reaper had many names that would have been much easier for him to take out, with bigger rewards and bigger satisfaction if he really was aiming all his hatred towards the former organization. Hell, he could have brought an army of Talon here to kill them all at their own front gate. But he didn’t. He went after Winston, who had the biggest drive to initiate the Recall, planning so carefully that the scientist would, then showing up here.  And the data Reaper supplied is simply staggering in the sheer number of compromised agents.

 

                Jack had been seething. For so long, he had been so sure of his resentment, of who to blame for the destruction of something they built _together_. All his belief and trust and life _died_ that day. Jack Morrison was no more, only a name on a meaningless plate and an echo of regrets. But then came along Reyes, once again flipping his world upside-down without a fucking care. Jack’s first instinct was to knock the teeth out of that cocky mouth. Second was to kiss the same cocky mouth senseless. He did both, naturally.

 

                Gabriel had to spend three whole months behind the bars that obviously can’t hold him should he try to escape, until Winston proved that all the information the man has provided is indeed true. One weight replaced the other on Jack’s shoulders. They talked, still do sometimes, about what happened. Mostly Jack’s “what ifs” and “could haves”, and Gabriel brushing them away ruthlessly. Sometimes, when it got too intense, they would yell at each other and come to blows. But blows and violence both can take. It is normal for them. Anger is easy to channel. But that is to say, even if he now has a good grip on the truth, Jack isn’t entirely really sure if he truly is regretting all the events that had snowballed after the point of his promotion or he is _relieved_.

 

                “Couldn’t have been me. Never would have been me.” Gabriel has told him on one of those days, after a bout of yelling that left Gabriel’s nose bleeding and Jack’s wrist sprained, the two of them staring out at the cold sea upon jagged rocks surrounding the isolated watch point, “You were their golden boy, _guapo_ , your image alone outshone everything else. You inspired people. Righteous. Perfect. Naïve. Easy to manipulate. Me? Not so much.”

 

                Even until now, Jack can’t figure out how Gabriel can so smoothly weave insults and praises together. He settled on punching the other’s shoulder warningly instead, drawing out a dark, rumbling laughter.

 

                Jack isn’t even mad. It all makes sense now. The guilt for taking the promotion which Gabriel rightly deserved more than Jack did made him turn a blind eye to whatever Blackwatch was doing. Gabriel’s bitterness made him only care about getting missions done, heedless of the dirt and blood on their hands and, just as well, the ulterior motives his own subordinates and superiors had. Buttons, subtle and effective, were pushed, driving the rift between Jack and Gabriel to the size of a canyon. Both of them were meant to be dead that day, when the supposed rebellion went way out of hand. Gabriel’s own Blackwatch brought the building down on the two of them. Angela’s attempt to salvage what was left of Gabriel was the last straw.

 

                Gabriel has a permanent distrust of her now. He firmly believes that whatever Angela does is only to put her own conscience to rest. Ironically, it was why he came to her in the first place, because Gabriel knows Mercy would do her absolute best and more to not fuck this one up. These days, Gabriel’s mood is often foul, even more so since he can’t risk being seen with the new Overwatch. Not for the sake of imagery, they technically _are_ _illegally_ operating at any rate, but he doesn’t want Talon to rain fucking hellfire on these few handfuls of people. And that hasn’t even factored in the erratic control of his powers and addled state of mind lately, thanks to the treatment. Not to say it doesn’t work, because the blotches of open flesh on Gabriel are mostly closed, his skin is recovering some of its natural hue instead of a deathly ashen grey, or at least that’s what people tell Jack and how he can feel it with his own hands, anyway. But while Gabriel has been mostly cooperating, he is still grouchy as fuck.

 

                Mainly because he can’t follow Jack out for missions.

 

                As soon as Gabriel was given the clear to leave his cell, Jack found the asshat outside of his bunker with a shit-eating grin and a bundle of his emo, depressing stuff. And Gabriel didn’t fucking take no for an answer.

 

                “I can’t…This won’t make it go back to the way it was, Gabe.” Jack told, no, _growled_ at Gabriel as he paced the room, heavy boots thudding against iron-plated floor, stressing his hair until they stuck out in all directions, “You’re back, and I’m both fucking happy and mad at the same time. But I… _we_ can’t. It’s not going to be that fucking simple!”

 

                It was Gabriel’s chuckle that made him stop. There was something in that laugh, something that made Jack’s heart clench painfully like it was tacked with shards of glass.

 

                “We are anything but simple, Jack. Never have been.” The cool hand at his nape and the heavy brows resting on his were comforting, and Jack almost hated himself for feeling that, “But this time, we’ll make it work. I promise.”

 

                Promises are for hopeful children and the butterflies in the pit of Jack’s stomach are long dead. But his throat felt like sandpaper at the feral determination in Gabriel’s voice and he felt so fucking stupid giving in so easily. Hope is something that never dies, not with Jack, even when it is charred and shot to pieces. Hell, in some crazy ways, Jack being alive and kicking _is_ hope. And so he believes Gabriel, not just because he is hopeful, but they both _need_ this. Jack doesn’t believe in higher powers, not anymore, but he prays to whoever might be listening that this closure and solace isn’t going to rip them apart again.

 

                When he isn’t in the labs with Angela or Winston, Gabriel is often seen at command post, a fancy name they gave the old and now decently equipped storage room, giving out intel and instructions to the field agents. Not being able to do anything makes him restless, but his directing is always clear, if not rather naggy. It is amusing, Jack has to admit, listening to Gabriel and Winston bickering over the comm. But Jack supposes he doesn’t get to say anything, since him and Gabriel snark and quip at each other every time Jack is the one who got sent out.

 

                “ _There are four points of security. Try to keep up with the kids, old man._ ”

 

                “ _Excuse me? You’re older than me, Reyes, and still shop at the angsty teenager section. Not to mention your terrible catch phrases_.”

 

                “Ayy, hombre _, you wanna talk about terrible catch phrases? You? The_ Captain America _? Please._ ”

 

                “ _Get a room, you two!!!_ ”

 

                “ _Already did, Oxton_.”

 

                “ _Oh my God!!! Shut up, Edge Lord!!_ ”

 

                “ _Ain’t no secret,_ guapo _. Everyone knows you_ brush up _with Death every night_.”

 

                There had been exasperated and disgusted groans all over (though Lena obviously giggled), and Jack hated how hot his neck and face felt. Secretly, however, he was glad that the visor hid his stupid smile away.

 

                The days when Gabriel isn’t there can be…difficult. Even Winston sounds sombre on the comm those days, despite his constant disagreements with Gabriel. The treatment Gabriel is going through is painful. The stubborn bastard doesn’t let anyone know, of course, but his agonizing groans and the way he limps around after every day in the lab tell enough tales. For a long while, this would be the first time that Jack becomes angry towards Angela. He knows she is trying her best, but Gabriel is right, too. This is her mess just as it is either of theirs. Yet if it wasn’t for Angela, Gabriel wouldn’t have been here, righting what is wrong and breaking Jack out of the thick haze he got caught in for so long. This is a twisted cycle among the three of them, neither good nor bad, and the best they can do is to not look back while they move forward.

 

                There are good days, too, when there is no mission involved. The perks of being such a small and secretive group is that they are not bound to any contract that makes them work day in and day out. It stocks the warmth in Jack’s chest, knowing Zenyatta has been teaching Gabriel how to meditate alongside him and Genji. Surprisingly, the omnic monk bonds easily with the prickly ex-merc, offering Gabriel the tranquillity he direly needs. There often isn’t much talking, which Jack supposes is a good thing for Gabriel, simply just learning how to _breathe_ again. There are also the ridiculous and obscure board games Jesse likes roping everyone in after a long day, entertaining in the fact that they can make Torbjörn and Reinhardt snapping at each other over Monopoly. Winston likes to arrange movie nights, though nobody ever let him pick the movies. Lena has been talking about getting everyone to go clubbing, which has been hotly denied every time of course (with the shocking exceptions of Genji and Angela), given their identities and _flashy_ appearances, at lack of better words. But it is nice to think about sometimes, that there are options out there, even though unviable, that perhaps, in another life, they could be just _normal_. But this, this is good enough, even if it’s just watching Winston and Torbjörn tinkering this and that on a beeping Bastion, or seeing Hanzo gagging whenever he mistakenly grabs Lena’s overly sweet tea in the morning. It is even better when it’s just Gabriel and Jack, cuddling in exhaustion after yelling at each other, a mission or just sex.

 

                Sometimes, all that is good enough to ignore the harsh reality, that they are but a tiny group of people that are struggling against a massive terrorist organization.

 

                “We need to leave this place eventually. Soon, preferably.” Gabriel deadpanned that one day, even though his body is angling dangerously over the table after leaving the lab with Angela. Jack steadied the man, his jaws squaring and no word escaped him. Gabriel was right. Lena was tailed after the last mission. She dispatched of the spy, but not quickly enough. Whoever was trying to track them would have a general idea of where to start searching now.

 

                They needed to leave, but Gabriel’s treatment was at that delicate stage again.

 

                This time, Jack is selfish enough to want to stay without much guilt on his part.

 

                “All the equipment is here. We can’t just up and leave. Everything is here. And where would we go?” He huffed through his mask, his harsh voice made Lena wince. And, of course, Gabriel had the gall to roll his eyes at _Jack_.

 

                “Don’t be stupid, _cabrón_. They’re gonna be on us like vultures on a carcass within days. Worse, they might just nuke us off the map.” His words were broken off with a round of raspy coughing, thick and liquidly at the same time. Jack’s chest clenched in that all too familiar way, his grip on Gabriel’s arm tightened and he snarled at the asshole.

 

                “We don’t have anywhere else to go! And we can’t, _shouldn’t_ split up like we had. They would pick us off one by one!”

 

                The silence was heavy, dotted by Gabriel’s grousing hacks, the man either too tired or too pissed to argue with Jack. It was unexpected that Hanzo was the one to voice himself next.

 

                “Perhaps I have the solution to this location problem. But I cannot assure you that _any of us_ would like it.”

 

                Thus, their little gang of misfits found themselves in Hanamura.

 

                The little village looks like it was carved out of an era that does not belong to their time, well-preserved and peaceful. Hanzo has emptied the compound, the _Shimada Castle_ , completely, leaving the massive, almost _hallowed_ ground if its blood-soaked past isn’t accounted for, to the new Overwatch’s operation. It didn’t come as a surprise that both the problematic brothers become even broodier than before upon arriving, but it was a surprise when McCree slapped Hanzo’s back with a blinding grin.

 

                “Ooooooh! Rikimaru!! Love the noodles there, partner!” Jesse crowed despite the archer’s seething glare. That was when they found out the damned cowboy had stopped a robbery at the small shop. After that, they can often spot him and Genji, in civilian clothes obviously, slurping away at Rikimaru’s most hidden corner.

 

                If one asks Jack, he would take hours to bitch about how weird their life has turned out, grumpy but with a slight quirk on his lips.

 

                Gibraltar is compromised only three days after they moved out. They didn’t nuke the place like Gabriel has suggested, but swarmed it with a small army led by none other than Widowmaker. There is nothing left behind, only the old crates that have always been there and ancient, unusable transport models. Tracer and Mei even took the time to spray dust everywhere after they left, a nice touch but probably isn’t too convincing. They watched the live feed with both silent rage and anxiety. Gabriel had had the bright idea of rigging the place with explosives, taking out whatever they could along with the base. Jack had half the mind to agree to that, his old hatred stirring at the thought of those Talon scums digging around where they had made a _home_. But not yet. They can’t declare war when they barely have the number to win a fight.

 

                Hanamura is a good place to lay low. Nobody would expect a group of vigilante to reside in the once notorious criminally lair. Jack supposes it’s a good thing, because Angela and Winston now have all the time to focus on Gabriel’s treatments. The clear, fresh air here is good for his blackened lungs and the district is quiet, mostly forgotten. They go out for recon missions often, giving helping hands here and there, just enough so the world would not forget about their existence. Hanzo disappears for many days at a time, always comes back sullen but doesn’t decline the take-away Jesse or Genji bought for him. Lena and Winston are working on getting them more recruits, conjuring up and discarding ideas. They are small but not weak, working discreetly but diligently, and, even though Jack comes back every time with his bones protesting and eyes unseeing, that warmth in his chest grows day after day. Sure, his idealistic self of the past might have been naïve, if history didn’t prove it enough, but this, what they have here, is what Overwatch supposed to be. People that work together, aiming for the same goal together. It isn’t just him or Gabriel that is haunted by the past, fuck, every single one of them is followed by their own ghost and demon, but, if anything, it makes them all stronger. Mistakes will be made, because no one is perfect, but the same mistakes won’t be repeated.

               

                    “You’re thinking too loud, _cariño_.” Gabriel grumbles, the man’s cool breaths tingling Jack’s ear, “Get some sleep before that receding hairline of yours became a real polished scalp.”      

                                  

                    Jack’s rough prod on Gabriel’s side only prompts a lazy twitch, “Fuck you, Gabe.” 

 

                   “Nah, too early for that.” Gabriel barely cracks an eye open, nosing shamelessly into Jack’s soft tresses, sighing in contentment, “’Sides, ain’t fancying havin’ your dick up my ass right now, _guapo_. The doctors’ been making my back tender.”                     

 

                    The infuriated huff only makes Gabriel crackle and Jack is too stubborn to give in even when a wandering hand reaches down to grab his half hard cock.  

                    

                    In the throes of quiet gasping and relentless pounding that night, Jack’s mind is just as dazed as his eyes, as he reaches up to stroke Gabriel’s healing skin in rhythm with the man’s thrusts. Jack’s life is such an endless circle of irony. Perhaps he is blind now, but he can see so much clearer than he has been with both his eyes and pride intact. Perhaps it isn’t such a bad thing that Gabriel Reyes has always been the one to turn his world upside-down. The lines between right or wrong has been blurred the day Zurich headquarter came down on their heads. It has been blurred again when Jack became Soldier: 76. There are too many closed corners, too many lies hidden in the shadows of the foundation of trust. Too many mistakes that could have been avoided. He was at fault just as Gabriel was, and there isn’t anything that can change what happened. There will be no rebuilding of what is destroyed. There will be no redemption, because there is no redeeming for something that is lost.  

 

                    They can only move forward, to decide what to do with the time given to them.

               

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my tumblr for more Blizz trash: [Nei Karasu](http://neikarasu.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ./go cry in a corner


End file.
